


Reaching For The Sky (Just To Surrender)

by Myrime



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: 2012 avengers, Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fear of Flying, Fluff, Flying, Friendship/Love, Kissing, M/M, Post-Avengers (2012), Steve Rogers Feels, Team as Family, Tony Stark Has A Heart, stevetony week 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 16:44:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19213447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myrime/pseuds/Myrime
Summary: Captain America is not afraid of anything - or so the story goes. Yet when Tony wants to pick him up for a post-battle flight home, Steve bails.





	Reaching For The Sky (Just To Surrender)

**Author's Note:**

> For the [stevetony week](https://stony-week.tumblr.com/) day 6: flying.  
> Enjoy!

The Avengers saved the day. The bad guys are in custody, their tech in SHIELD’s hands, the civilian’s safe. They even helped with clean-up, although the property damage was kept fairly low – _this time_. Still, they are lingering. Some brave souls have overcome the recent trauma already and pose for a picture with Thor.

Tony is bored. More specifically, he wishes the call to assemble had come half an hour later because he was in the middle of a very romantic, self-prepared lunch with Steve, which was ruined because some mindless goons decided to take their gang war to the next level. And now Steve is talking to the police instead of rushing back home and picking up where they left off as Tony wants to. Even though the mood is thoroughly ruined, of course. They can pick it up again, they always do, if only Steve would stop lazing around.

Fed up, Tony stops his watchful circling of the crime scene and lands rather unsubtly right next to Steve.

“We’re all set here?” he asks, hoping Steve will pick up on the subtext.

“Almost,” Steve answers with a knowing smile. He still turns back to the officer, finishing his conversation.

Tony does not do well with being ignored, so he makes his way back to the group. They are all waiting for Steve now. At this point, Tony is sure he does it on purpose.

Then, finally, Steve joins them, his face one of accomplishment that can only come from beating up some bad guys.

“All right, let’s go.”

These words are music in Tony’s ears. Sidling up next to Steve, he asks, “Need a lift?” Taking the suit will be so much quicker.

He is already holding out his arms for Steve to step into, so he does not notice the way Steve’s expression turns stricken.

“I’m not exactly a fan of flying,” Steve says slowly, eyeing the suit with a kind of trepidation Tony has until now only ever connected to him doing reckless stunts in it.

“You – what?” Tony asks, sure he has misheard. This is Captain America, after all. “How can you not – You never complain when we take the quinjet.”

A slight blush colours Steve’s neck. “Well, I stay clear of the cockpit. Not looking out helps.”

Tony is sure he is missing something here. Maybe an elaborate prank. Or Steve does not want to get back quickly, not alone with Tony.

“You jumped out of a plane without a parachute,” Tony points out dryly, trying for humour. Nobody laughs.

“Yeah, well, that was on a mission.” In an almost reassuring tone, Steve adds, “And you caught me.”

If he thought that would mollify Tony, he was wrong. “You don’t think I’m going to let you fall now, are you?”

Realizing he still has his arms half-open in invitation, Tony lets them fall abruptly, leaving them to hang at his side listlessly. Somehow, everything is going wrong today.

“Of course not,” Steve says quickly. There is no mistaking the way he looks everywhere but at the suit, though. “I just – I think I’d prefer staying on the ground.”

“But –” Tony tries to take a step forward but is stopped by Clint’s hand on his shoulder. He could easily shake the archer off, but something in his face warns Tony not to.

“Stop being insensitive, Stark,” Clint snaps. At his side, Natasha glares.

“I’m not,” Tony protests and turns to look at the rest of the team too. “This is just new information. Aren’t you curious why our fearless leader is apparently not that fearless?”

“You’re afraid of things too,” Bruce interjects knowingly. None of them looks particularly surprised. Well, it is hardly the first time they realized one of their teammates is messed up. With Steve, it is simply personal for Tony. He should know these things.

“Yes,” Tony agrees with stubborn petulance. “And I have a reason for each one of them.”

“And we’re not asking about them,” Bruce says firmly.

Clint does not waste any energy on kindness but simply warns, “Just let it go.”

While taken aback, Tony knows when a battle is lost. “All right, losers,” he says, closing his faceplate. “I’ll see you at the tower.”

Not waiting for an answer, Tony takes off. He is surprised to find that he is upset. Not at the others for telling him off, but for not knowing that Steve is afraid of flying. Considering that their main transport to missions is the quinjet and Tony himself sometimes does not ever want to come back to the ground, this is a monumental recovery. Steve is always so adamant on solving all his problems himself and suffering in silence until then. It is like he does not trust them – does not trust _Tony_ – to help.

The tower comes into sight far too soon, long before Tony has managed to sort through his conflicting feelings. Since Steve is not there to watch him, he climbs higher into the sky. Flying has always helped to clear his mind.

When he gets back, he will talk to Steve.

 

* * *

 

Steve is sitting on their bed, paging through one of is sketchbooks when Tony comes in. With how quickly he had taken off after the battle, Steve was afraid Tony was upset. Looking at his face now, Steve can only detect worry and a hint of uncertainty.

“Hey, Steve,” Tony says quietly, hesitating in the doorway.  “I’m sorry about earlier.”

Steve blinks in surprise. Not only at the words but because it seems like Tony does not move farther into the room, as if he is unsure whether he is wanted here. This is their bedroom, though, and Tony is not usually one for being shy.

“You don’t have to apologize.” Steve cocks his head to the side. “Who talked you into this? Bruce?”

Staring at his hands, Tony admits, “Actually, it was JARVIS. He had some very choice words about me not respecting other people’s boundaries.”

Their conversation after the mission had not been that bad, which means that Tony must have come home full of plans to _cure_ Steve of his fear, whether he wants to or not.

Since he does not want to argue, though, Steve shrugs. “It’s stupid.”

“You don’t have to tell me. And I’m sure it’s not –”

Steve cuts him off with a glare, then sighs. He pats the place next to him on the bed in invitation. It takes Tony a whole minute to decide to come, and when he does, he still leaves some room between them. With a jolt, Steve realizes that this is Tony giving him space since he himself never likes touching someone when having an argument or talking about problematic feelings.

Instead of reaching out anyway, Steve looks at some place beyond Tony’s shoulder. As clear-cut as the matter had been only moments before, it is now hard to find a beginning.

“It always feels like I’m back on that plane, pointing it down at the ocean,” he finally says rushing out the words. “I remember telling Peggy to save me that dance and then just coldness until I wake up seventy years too late.”

There had been more to it. The plane had been rattling all around him, straining against the sudden change of its course. Despite being fine with his decision, Steve had not been able to look away from the grey surface of the sea coming ever closer, first nothing but an emotionless mass, then growing increasingly hungrier, waves reaching out to pull him under.

The crash itself had not been that bad. Steve had expected the impact, the pain. As ridiculous as it sounds, he had been more upset at Peggy’s picture being flung out of sight than at being thrown around like a ragdoll himself. He had sunk in and out of consciousness for several minutes, confused as to why he was still alive. That was when the water came rushing in. Holding his breath had been a mere stupid instinct.

“Oh, Steve,” Tony says, his face stricken as if he had not realized that Steve’s fear has a whole, complicated reason behind it. “That’s – I’m so sorry.”

Steve clicks his tongue, annoyed at himself for making an issue out of this. “You don’t have to be sorry.”

His mouth already open to protest, Tony narrows his eyes at him and stops. Swallowing the first response coming to their mind had helped a great deal in overcoming their differences as had looking beyond the first bad impressions they made with each other.

“Then let me be sorry about pressuring you,” Tony finally says, the kind of stubborn tilt to his chin that makes it obvious he will not budge on this. “This is far from stupid. Steve, you crashed that plane on purpose. You were ready to die. And then you woke up in a whole new century with just about everything and everyone from your old life dead. That’s not a stupid fear.”

By now, Steve has accepted his fate, his new life. He still speaks with fondness of what he had, but he has found things now he had never been able to even dream of back in the forties. Tony has been a great factor in that.

“I should be afraid of crashing,” Steve argues, “not of flying with my boyfriend.”

Tony’s face brightens at the mention of their relationship. It works every time, without fail, reminding Steve that he is not the only one still in absolute wonder as to how this could have happened.

Before Steve can relax, though, Tony frowns. “If you think you can distract me by calling me your boyfriend and making such a kissable face you’re –” he makes the mistake of looking at Steve’s lips and interrupts himself, “probably right.” With visible effort, he shakes his head. “But I need to get this out first. You’re not stupid for being afraid of the thing that almost killed you,” he says firmly, voice brooking no argument. “You wouldn’t be stupid even if you didn’t have some more than valid trauma connected to flying.”

Tony throws a hand up in the air, caught between smiling and scowling. “Flying’s crazy,” he exclaims. “We humans are beyond reckless for reaching for the sky. Up there you realize how very small you really are, how powerless, how quickly your life can be over if just one little thing goes wrong.” He stops, looking sheepish for embellishing the very thing Steve fears. “If anything, you’re smart for being afraid of something so fundamentally terrifying.”

Tony is right, but there is one simple reason that holds Steve back whenever he wants to ask Tony to stop being so reckless while in the air. “You love it.”

Not buying Steve’s nonchalance, Tony rolls his eyes. “Yes, but I make a hobby out of flirting with death,” he says, then quickly keeps talking to lessen the chance of this turning into an argument about that _again_. “And I’ve got a shitload of actually stupid fears. I mean, _bathtubs_. I get water-boarded once and now I can’t get into my luxuriously big bathtub in my own home anymore?”

Steve winces. Although it is utterly unreasonable to regret not having been able to help Tony while he was a captive of the Ten Rings, it is impossible to ignore. “Tony, you’re not making me feel better by making small of your fears.” With vehemence, he adds, “Which are definitely not stupid either.”

When Tony starts grinning, Steve feels like he has fallen into a trap.

“Hah! _Either_ ,” Tony exclaims, too cheerful for their current discussion. “So you admit you not wanting to fly is not some inherent character flaw but a reasonable fear.”

That is certainly not what Steve meant. Choosing to crash a plan is hardly comparable with being tortured. “I have a feeling you’re not going to let me say no.”

“Nope. And despite what JARVIS told me, I need you to think about whether you want us to do something about it.” He interprets Steve’s falling face right, because he hastily amends, “Not today, not tomorrow. Take your time.”

“Do something about it?” Steve asks with some wariness.

“Flying is beautiful.” The wonder in Tony’s voice is palpable. “To me, it means utter freedom. I would love for you to see why it brings me so much joy, but if you tell me no, that’s okay too. Although you’ll need to tell me how I can make the quinjet more comfortable for you.”

He knows that Tony is always looking for things to fix, to improve. Not wanting to fly does not impact Steve’s life overly much. If Tony made a project out of it, though, it could do more harm than good. Steve does not want to lose what he has.

Cautiously, he says, “Tony, that’s –”

“The least I can do.,” Tony cuts him off. With a slightly apologetic expression he says, “Maybe, in return, you’ll manage to coax me into that bathtub of mine.”

That is emotional blackmail. Steve does not get the chance to say anything about it, because Tony seems to have decided that the time for conversation is over. He shifts closer to Steve, putting a hand on his shirt, right over his heart.

“For now, I’m happy with you getting naked for me.”

Steve is barely able to stop his own hands from immediately following through with Tony’s suggestion. “You’re incorrigible,” he sighs. “But that’s what I love you for.”

Suddenly, Tony looks away. It is still hard to anticipate what might push Tony over some edge.

“I’m glad you love me for my worse qualities,” he says quietly, discouraged.

That is something, Steve will not let stand. Reaching out, he frames Tony’s face in his hands and pulls him in for a kiss. “I love you for being you.”

His smile back in place, Tony says. “I love you too.” They kiss again before Tony pulls away and tugs at Steve’s hand. “Now, lose that shirt.”

**Author's Note:**

> All I've been posting this week has been fluff. It's frankly scary.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
